Ah, reality? Reality's boring!
by Blogger221B
Summary: When Sherlock gets a visit from the most unlikely couple, he and John find themselves being dragged into a darker side to the world they live in. Now they must answer the most important question they have ever come across; is their unvierse real, or have they really just been fiction all along? And can Sherlock and John come to terms with their feelings for each other? Enjoy;D
1. The Strangers

Author's note:

Firstly I'd just like to say that this fanfic is mainly about JohnLock, so if you don't like that ship it's probably not the story for you.

Secondly, I'm sorry for all those people who want this to get going straight away. The JohnLock get's going half way through the third chapter and continues from there. The actual tension of the story starts in the fourth chapter. Sorry about thatxD

Thirdly, ENJOY! And also please comment? Any criticism is welcome, and I would love to know what you guys think!:) Thank you!

* * *

**1. The Strangers**

"John, it's the door." Sherlock paused. "John, the door." Again, there was no reply.

Usually, Sherlock would wait for John to get back, just to make him go to the trouble of fetching Sherlock the pen he needed half an hour ago. Then again, there usually wasn't the loud "bringgg" of the door every time he tried to think. Sherlock closed his eyes, but still the noise continued, over and over and over...

"JOHN", Sherlock shouted. At that moment, the room went silent again. It stayed that way for a good 30 seconds before he heard footsteps coming towards his room. Sherlock sighed.

"Sherlock?" It was Mrs. Hudson. "Ahh, Sherlock, two people are at the door wanting to see somebody here, god knows why, so I thought you'd be the best person to tell them to... well..."

"Piss off?"

"Yes." She broke off for a moment to stare around at the room, bombarded with rubbish. Newly shot holes had appeared in the wall. "Sherlock, look at the mess you've made! You had better clean this up, young man!"

"Not at the moment. Get me something to eat, would you?"

Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes. "I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper-"

"Something cold will do," he replied hastily, before setting off down the stairs. When he stepped out into the night, he stopped to find that John had arrived back from shopping already (with bags of food, so he obviously hadn't had another row with a chip and pin machine) and was talking to two people. A man and a woman; the man seemed to have bewildered John already. You could tell that he wasn't going to stop yacking away any time soon. When John saw Sherlock then, he looked utterly relieved.

_Well_, _there's a first time for everything._

"There you are!" John said, almost hugging Sherlock as he reached him. "This is...ermm..."

"Why hello there!" the two strangers said in unison. Before Sherlock could reply the man stepped forward and shook his hand vigorously, smiling up at him. "I'm Mr. Smith, and this..." he gestured towards the girl, "is Clara."

"We're not married though", the girl said quickly.

"Personally I think 'Clara Smith' sounds lovely." The man turned his eyes towards the girl. She clenched her fists.

"For the last time," she murmured between her teeth. "I am not running away with _you_. I came because I-"

"What", Sherlock interrupted, "are you doing here?" John had, despite his nerves of steel, gone to stand behind Sherlock. Something about them was overpowering, especially that man...

"Oh, we're the police." The man said, and stuffed a blank piece of paper right in front of Sherlock's nose. "Just checking out the neighborhood, mind if we come in?"

Sherlock looked confused. "Well", said John, "I suppose there's no harm in that."

"What?" Sherlock momentarily gave John one of his '_why are you so stupid_' looks. His gaze then rested upon the man. "What's that paper? It doesn't say anything?"

Now it was John's turn to be dumbfounded. "Sherlock, that's a pass to show-"

The man gasped. "He can't see it! Clara, he can see through the psychic paper! This man is a proper genius! Haha! What's your name, Sir?"

Sherlock looked down on him. Obviously this man was completely mad, and his little friend didn't seen incredibly normal either. But of course, normal is terribly boring. Without a hint of amusement Sherlock replied, "The name's Sherlock Holmes."

Those words hit the two strangers like a brick to the head. The cheesy smiles spread across their faces vanished, and they just stood there gaping. "W-w-what?" the man stuttered.

John, who had plucked up the courage to come out from behind Sherlock, stepped forward. "I'm sorry, but what is going on here?"

Sherlock smiled. _Psychopathic? No._ He always felt so proud of John, which was more than he had ever felt for anyone else before. He had tried to be alone for so long, and yet looking down at the tiny figure in front of him... one friend couldn't hurt. Definitely not.

"More importantly," Sherlock said, "where did that police box come from?" He pointed to the corner of the street where the glowing blue box was sat. He turned to the gaping idiots. "What, did you bring that with you? Honestly, it doesn't have wheels, does it? And it doesn't fly around or anything. What is it?"

The girl's face had lit up again. "Oh my god, you're Sherlock Holmes! You're the actual Sherlock Holmes!"

"Yes, I think we've all got that", John said impatiently. "What the hell is going on!?"

The man looked at John. "I think, Dr. Watson, we have some explaining to do." With that he ran off into 221B, followed by the girl.

John stopped, not moving. He didn't bother to call the strangers back. "Sherlock, how did he know my name?" With no answer, John turned to Sherlock. "Sherlock, I never told them my name. Wait...did you give them my personal information because you didn't want to give out yours? I swear I told you never to do that again, and yet you-"

"The paper he held up, what was it?"

"What?"

"I mean, what did it look like to you?"

John looked confused. "It was a pass to show that they were the police... Sherlock, are you okay?"

_They recognized our names._

_They decided to randomly pull along a police box with them. Weird._

_And I saw paper, and John saw... something entirely different.  
_

_'When you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.' _

So why was there no possible truth?

* * *

"Oh, I know what this is! It's another bloody drugs bust! Did Anderson send you? The sneaky little-"

"John", Sherlock cut him off. "There is really no point in worrying over something so dull and..." Watching John striding around in a huff stopped him for a moment.

_John, please don't get upset. I don't want to see someone I lov... I mean, my friend. I don't want to see one of my friends get hurt. Love? There is no such thing..._

The next thing he knew, John was staring straight at him. Sherlock regained his thoughts quickly enough for him to understand what John was talking about. "Sherlock", John said carefully, and Sherlock could tell he was trying desperately not to stutter. "You know... everything. Everything there is to know about everyone. But you, YOU, can't read a thing about them. What does that tell us?"

Sherlock paused. The silence dawned on them.

"What is this!?" The girl shouted to them. When she had come into their sight, John's attention went straight from Clara to the head she was holding in her hand. It was hanging from its hair (or, what was left of its hair). Its eyes had been pulled straight out of the sockets, and the side of its mouth appeared to have been ripped off, straight across to the cheekbones, revealing the teeth and rotting gums on the left side of the severed head.

Despite John's reaction to the head, Sherlock didn't stir. "Oh my god, I am so, so sorry about that. Sherlock here keeps them for...ermmm..."

Clara just laughed. "I've seen worse", she smiled at him.

"Oh, err, right..." John's eyes had finally left the severed head and were on hers. A very awkward silence followed.

Sherlock opened one eye to gaze upon the future couple. Knowing John, he would win her over in two seconds flat. Sherlock broke the silence. "If you want to see its eyes, just look in the jar in the top right of the fridge."

"No need!" Called the cheery voice. "I've already found them! They're, ermmm... from a man... no, a woman. At the age of... 20? No, 21. Urgh, and out of date, too...""

Other than John, this was the first person who had actually ever caught Sherlock's attention. Not in the way John had, of course. John had slowly, over time, proved himself worthy of being noticed. But this man had turned Sherlock's head with a click of his fingers. Nobody could do that. Nobody.

"How did you know that?" Sherlock inquired, as calmly as he could.

"Wha war dat? Sowy?" Smith said as he entered the room, waving his tongue up and down and pulling a face like he had just tasted a sour lemon. _'Or worse' _Sherlock realized. John had obviously realized where the mans tongue had been too. His expression was priceless. "Gowd, Herlock!" The man was having difficulty talking while sticking his tongue out. "Try to ge some fress eyes somefime, on't yu?"

"If I needed someone to be weird I'd ask my skull. I do not need you here." With that Sherlock turned to the door and gracefully knocked it open. "Leave, please, and take your girlfriend with you. You too John, after you pick your jaw up off the floor."

John looked even more shocked than before as he looked up at Sherlock. "W-what? Sherlock, this is my home too! You can't just-"

"Oh, but I can."

John sighed. There was no point in fighting this battle. Smith, however, obviously thought differently.

"Before I leave", the man said, "I'd like to ask you something."

"Be quick then, don't waste my time."

The man stared at Sherlock so hard that it sent a shiver down his spine. "Your skull, it's the one on the mantelpiece, right?"

"Yes. If that's all I'd like you to leave now."

"Give me one more question. Where did you get it from? Or should I say, _who_ did you get it from?"

Sherlock froze. His whole body seemed to go into shutdown, as he remembered that day as a child, the day he was given the skull. Even now he could picture in his mind the man walking towards him, with the funny bow tie and the fez. And his face, so familiar and yet...


	2. Doctor Who?

**2. Doctor _Who?_**

"_Who are you?"_

_The man's eyes glinted, and a friendly smile grew across his face. "A friend."_

_The boy looked down, amusement showing on his face. "I don't have friends."_

_They were sitting on a park bench, the boy on the right and the man on the left, who couldn't take his eyes of the small child sitting beside him. His gaze was full of sadness. The boy, trying his hardest to ignore the man, was attempting to solve a rubix cube. They stayed this way for a good five minutes before the boy threw the puzzle on the ground. "What the hell are you doing, staring at me like that!? It must be so boring inside that tiny little head of yours!"_

_Despite the reaction the boy thought he was going to get, the man stayed very still, as if he hadn't heard a word the boy just said. Finally he raised his head. "Sherlock, there's something I need to give you. And I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."  
_

* * *

Sherlock's hand clutched the door, and he steadied himself. John rushed over, but before he got there Sherlock's scream filled the room, making John step back in surprise. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE AND NEVER COME BACK!"

"Come on, Clara." The man quickly stalked out of the room, followed by the girl. John was about to follow, when Sherlock grabbed his arm.

"John, I..." Sherlock trailed off. John could feel his hand shaking, and looking up, his eyes locked with Sherlock's, and... were those tears in his eyes? _No. No. This is Sherlock we're talking about here. Come on, John._

"John, I had forgotten about what he said to me that day. I had forgotten everything. I'm so sorry. I really am."

_Yep_, John decided. _This time he really has gone round the bend._

"Sherlock, I have no idea what you're talking about, but I can see you're upset, so..." So? What could John do to settle the almighty Sherlock? Sherlock could never hear him speaking, no matter what he said. He could never hear anyone.

"I'm so sorry John. I just need some time-" Before John could reply Sherlock had marched quickly into his room and slammed the door behind him. For the first time, John felt completely useless. Sherlock was upset. Strangely, John was the one being the unemphatic one. He always thought that Sherlock didn't care about anything or anyone. Now he realized that he had been wrong, and yet, there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time ever John wished that Sherlock really was a psychopath. It would be less painful.

_Think, John, think. What should I do? What would Sherlock do? _

And he ran, as fast as he could, down the steps and into the street, ignoring Mrs. Hudson's calls. He spun around. The street was completely empty. And as he turned to the corner of the street, he saw...

_Nothing? __Wait, what? The police box was there before._

A kind voice interrupted his thinking. "He's gone. Don't worry, he'll be back soon."

John turned in surprise to see Clara standing in front of him. He gulped. "He's gone...where?"

"He said he needed to do something very important." Clara shrugged. "Said he needed to find a skull, and then find a boy." She looked up at him, and smiled at his stupefied face. "Don't worry, he never makes sense. Come on", she smiled, turning to the flat. "I'll explain what's going on now. Including who me and 'Mr. Smith' really are."

John looked confused. "So...you _are_ married then?"

"No!" The girl blushed, and turned away. "No. Will you just listen to me?"

* * *

"What do you mean we're 'not real'?"

The girl was tucked up on the sofa, blowing on her cup of tea. She acted as if what she was saying made perfect sense. But even more worrying, for the first time ever, Sherlock didn't seem to be interested at all about what was being said. He just sat there. Empty. Alone. He certainly wouldn't make eye contact with John. Despite how hard it was, John dragged his attention away from Sherlock's sorry self, and continued to listen to the girl. "Ok, I may have to explain this from the beginning...

"In my world, or dimension, if you like, you are made up. You are fictional characters. I remember when I was a teenager I read all of the Sherlock Holmes books, about the clever detective and his assistant, Dr. Watson." She smiled at that point. "Of course, some things are different. You and John were both from Victorian times in the books, for example. And in the books you weren't together, either-"

"We aren't together!", John snapped at her. The girl raised her eyebrows.

"Alright, alright! All I'm saying is that you should never ignore a coincidence, especially not one this big.

"Here I suppose there are no Sherlock Holmes books, right? I mean, nothing about 'The Study in Scarlet 'or 'The Adventure of the Speckled Band? Oh, actually, my favorite was 'A Scandal in Bohemia'"

_A Study in Pink._

_The Speckled Blonde._

_A Scandal in Belgravia._

Neither John nor Sherlock (who had finally started to stop acting deaf) knew what to say. After five minutes of silence, Sherlock got up and strode to the window. John's eye's followed Sherlock and stopped as he opened the window and gazed out of it. "You've probably just read John's blog and changed it to trick us."

"I'm afraid not." The girl shrugged and looked out of the window, not bothering to walk to it. Then she froze. "Ermm, you don't have any books or TV programs to do with us here, do you? Me and the Doctor, I mean."

Assuming that the doctor was the mysterious man with the bow tie, John turned to Sherlock. "I don't think so. Sherlock, have you heard of something that has a 'Clara' and a 'Doctor'..?" Then he realized how stupid he was sounding. He didn't actually believe this girls story, did he?

_Doctor. Doctor. _"Doctor..."

"What?" John had heard what Sherlock had just murmured, but he wasn't commenting on that, anyway. He was just so surprised that Sherlock had started to talk again. It usually came as a surprise, because sometimes Sherlock would sit there, not moving, not saying a word, for days on end. And that was sad, really. However much John denied it, he did enjoy Sherlock's company. Maybe he couldn't admit it because Sherlock didn't act as if he liked John's. And that hurt. A lot.

Sherlock turned from the window, and John could see that strange sideways smile spread across his face. He walked steadily across the room, stopping to stand right in front of Clara. "What do you mean, 'the Doctor'? What Doctor? Doctor _who?_"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" They all turned to see Smith leaning on the door. Even Sherlock hadn't noticed him return.

Sherlock looked straight into the man's eyes, and he returned the favor. For a moment John felt a stab of jealousy. He looked away.

_What the hell is wrong with you John? Get a grip!_

Totally oblivious to John's reaction, Sherlock walked towards the man. "What you said to me back then, is it true?"

"Yes." The man looked so sorrowful, and so old. "I need you to trust me." His put his hand out. "I believe in Sherlock Holmes. Do you believe in me?"

Sherlock didn't bother to grab the doctor's hand. "I don't know. But I would like my questions answered. Starting with the box."


	3. Sherlock and John

**3. Sherlock and John**

"_Why are you giving me a skull?" The boy couldn't think why the man was giving him it, or what it would be useful for. There was no point knowing about human anatomy when he couldn't use his knowledge on something important, so there was no point studying it. Other than that, there's really no point in a skull at all. Unless you're alive, of course._

"_This skull is more important than anything in the world. In _your _world, I mean." The man corrected himself. He then studied the boy. And he understood him. The boy, he was so lonely, a little like him. The only one of his kind. So, so, lonely..._

"_Sherlock, listen to me. What I'm about to tell you is very important. Because this skull, this skull is..."_

* * *

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock almost jumped in surprise. He looked up to see John staring down at him, worry showing on his face. "What?" he asked bluntly.

John sighed. "Look, you don't have to talk to me. I just wanted to make sure that you were..." Whatever John was going to say, he stopped abruptly, not taking his eyes of Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up, obviously annoyed. "What?" he said, even more impatiently.

"Ermm... I ...ermm ..." John looked away. "T-to make sure that you were alright. I wanted to make sure you were alright. But you are, so..." He turned around, and started to walk away quickly. Sherlock caught his arm before it was out of reach. He instantly regretted it.

Sherlock opened him mouth to speak, but what to say? "Thank you, John." There, that was a good reply. It would have been so easy for a normal person to say that and not even have to think about it, but socializing wasn't his thing. Being a highly-functioning sociopath and living with the highly-emotional John Watson wasn't the easiest thing to do.

John said nothing in reply, but nodded. He quickly shook Sherlock's hand off his arm. "Doctor! You said there are more rooms, so I'm going to have a look around-" Before the Doctor could reply John had already vanished through the doors opposite the entrance of the massive orange 'room' he was currently in. Nothing he had seen before looked quite as incredible as this. It was so...alien. _Not alien,_ he corrected himself. _It couldn't literally be alien, could it? _At this point Sherlock was willing to believe anything he saw. The science of deduction wasn't working. This wasn't possible. None of it was.

"I must say," the doctor interrupted his thoughts. "I can't believe we got through the 'it's bigger on the inside' stage so quickly with you! Well done my friend." The doctor turned to the man sitting on the old dirty seat, and sighed. Sherlock's head was still being held up in his hands and the only person he had actually seen the man do anything for was John. He sat himself next to Sherlock.

"Why? I don't care how anymore." At that Sherlock grabbed the man's bow tie and pulled the man up to his giant height. "Why did you give me that skull? I have lived my whole life without knowing about it. I have lived my whole life with that skull, sat there, in my room, and I had completely forgotten what you had said. And all because," Sherlock hissed through his teeth," I wasn't going to keep the mad man with the box in my hard drive."

"You were so lonely," was all the man had to say. Sherlock had had enough, and he dropped the Doctor, who staggered but managed to stay on his feet. He didn't know what to say. Sherlock just stood there, shaking. And nobody could do anything to settle him. Until John returned. By that time, the Doctor was apparently fixing the 'machine', so John had time alone with Sherlock to calm him down. When the Doctor finally returned, the couple were sat together on the seat. John's head rested on Sherlock's arm (he couldn't quite reach his shoulder). Sherlock's hand rested John's shoulder. Neither of them were talking, but you could tell that they were both calmer than ever.

"Aww, I don't want to spoil the moment between you two, but there's something I need to show you both outside." The Doctor grinned at John, who instantly went red in the face and moved away from Sherlock.

Sherlock seemed uninterested. "We've been in here for 22 minutes," John stated. "I doubt anything interesting has happened outside."

"Nonsense. A great deal can happen in 22 minutes. For example, in twenty-two minutes Anderson could lower the IQ of the entire world." Sherlock stood up. "We had better go and check this out, sidekick."

"Sidekick? Why can't I be the-"

"No. That hasn't happened" The Doctor said simply. "Take a look at this..." He casually strolled to the doors, and Sherlock and John followed obediently. The doors were flung open.

Just for those next precious couple of minutes, Sherlock was glad that the Doctor had landed at his door. "Wow..."

* * *

The image that lay before their eyes was incredible. Millions of blindingly bright stars covered the sky. Clouds of pink, red and blue fog slowly wrapped each and every one of the planets, each of which was also a different colour. It was beautiful. Or at least it was until you decided to look down. Sherlock didn't seem fazed by the idea that they were floating around in space. John, however, felt a sudden rush of nausea, and had to steady himself against the door. When he finally felt able to look up again, the Doctor had disappeared, probably to fetch Clara from her room. Sherlock had his back to John, and was holding onto the door, or rather, swinging on it, so he could hang out right above the nothingness below him. "Oh my god Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?" John shouted at him. "What if you fall?" He was beginning to feel even more sick than before.

"Then I'll die." Sherlock smiled. "But look on the bright side, you won't have to live with me anymore!"

"You idiot! You complete idiot!" John screamed. "I thought you didn't care about the solar system and all that!"

"That doesn't mean I can't appreciate it."

"Right, that's it!" John grabbed Sherlock around his waist, and tried to pull him back inside. Sherlock froze for a moment, and then sighed as he relaxed himself.

"Really John, I didn't realize you cared so much," Sherlock chuckled. He continued to hang outside the box, with Johns arms still around him.

"I don't know what I'd do without you!" John was clinging on for dear life, and Sherlock seemed to be enjoying it. "Sherlock, you are my friend. My only friend. If you left me...why the hell are you still laughing?"

"Because that's not what I meant," he smiled. John could feel Sherlock's body shaking in his arms.

"W-what?"

"You should probably check where your hand is, John."

"I don't know what you mea-" _Oh my god. Oh my god, am I... _

John's hand flew away from Sherlock, and he staggered back, shocked. Sherlock pulled himself back into the police box, shutting the doors behind him. He turned to John, and that strange sideways smile of his spread across his face. "Don't worry. Nobody has ever touched my crotch before, and you can't really do it wrong the first time, now can you?" John was still in the same position, staring at the floor in utter disbelief. Sherlock's smile faded. "John, look at me". No reply. "John!" Sherlock grabbed John's warm face in his hands and pulled it upwards so they were facing one another. His eyes darted to every part of John's face as he scanned him. The man's heart was racing wildly, and his cheeks were burning. And when his blue, teary eyes made contact with Sherlock's, his pupils dilated. _Of course. How did I not see this before? _"John-"

"Don't try to read me!" John pushed Sherlock away staggered back, before collapsing. Sherlock caught him just in time and held him to his chest. Surprisingly this was all coming to Sherlock rather naturally, despite past attempts at comforting people.

_John._

"Don't do that to me again." Tears were now streaming down John's face. "Don't hate me, Sherlock. I'm sorry. Don't hate me."

_John. Please._ _I'm sorry. _"It's alright John. It's alright. I don't hate you. We're..." _Friends? _Sherlock wasn't sure. Maybe they were more than that now. "Are we friends?"

John stared at him in disbelief. "Don't say that Sherlock! Don't leave me. Please!" He smashed his hands into Sherlock's chest with surprising strength, sending Sherlock stumbling backwards. Quickly John ran out of the room.

"John, that's not what I...meant..."

What Sherlock could not get his head around was that he should have been worrying about being a fictional character on a time traveling space ship disguised as a police box, with an alien and a girl from another world. But no. He was worried about John.

_What's wrong with me?_


	4. Sherlock Holmes is DEAD

**4. Sherlock Holmes is DEAD**

"Well, we'll have to come back and visit sometime, won't we Clara?"

"We'll see you...soon, hopefully!"

"Yeah," John managed to say. "You're welcome to come back any time you like."

"Okay, let's go. You both might want to stay here and watch us leave..." With that and a cheesy grin the Doctor slammed the doors of the box. Sherlock and John stood there, not daring to look at each other after what had just happened, keeping their eyes fixed on the police box. They waited. And they waited. And...

"Okayyy!" The Doctor charged back out and managed to halt just before he went flying into John. "John, you said me and Clara would be welcome any time, didn't you?"

"Yes?"

"Good. Clara, come quickly, and bring your suitcase," he shouted into the Tardis. Then he skipped along to the door. "Come on! We haven't got all day you two!"

"Wait a second! Are you..." But the Doctor had already hopped through the open door. John sighed. "Looks like we'll be having company for a while, Sherlock." He looked up to see Sherlock, expressionless, looking at the ground. He hadn't talked since John had pushed him away.

_"...don't leave me. Please!"_

"Sherlock, listen. I didn't mean to...Clara, how many suitcases do you have?" His attention had turned to the enormous pile of luggage the girl was trying to squeeze through the door of the police box. "Here, let me help." John grabbed four of the bags and tried his hardest to hold them up without falling over. "Err, okay, lets go upstairs then..."

The three of them climbed up the stairs; Clara, only carrying two bags now, walked up quickly first. John, quite a far distance back from her, was trying his hardest not to give up on carrying the bags. He did not want to look stupid right in front of Sherlock, who was trailing behind him, two times in the same day. Once was bad enough. Unfortunately, John failed miserably at this.

Sherlock could see that John was struggling with the bags, and was prepared for any bags that John decided to drop on his head. He was not, however, prepared when John slipped. Not only did the bags fall down at him at a great speed, but John banged down the stairs with them. "John!" Sherlock elegantly dogged the avalanche of giant bags and caught John before he hit his head on the stairs for the fourth time. "John. John!" Sherlock shook him vigorously. "John, talk to me! Tell me how you're feeling."

"Hmm..." John didn't open his eyes but continued to talk. "Sherlock, is that you?"

"John..." Sherlock sighed with relief.

"Doctor, I'm sorry, I though you were Sherlock. Sorry." John continued.

"No, John, I AM Sher-"

"I thought you were Sherlock because he would always come to help me at a time like this. He has saved me so many times."

_John..._

"But I know he won't even talk to me now. I doubt he will again. You'll never believe what I did, and I'm so sorry for it. I don't know how to stop loving someone once I've started. Because", he whispered, "until I met Sherlock Holmes, I never new what love really was. Not really. And now I don't want to let go of it."

Sherlock didn't know what to say. Poor John was obviously completely out of it after bashing his head on the stairs, but if there really was some truth in what John was saying, then...

"You won't tell Sherlock I told you this, will you? He would probably throw me out."

"N-no," Sherlock stuttered.

"Thank you." That was the last thing John said before Sherlock heard the scream from upstairs. From 221B.

"Clara?" Sherlock shouted. "Clara, are you alright?" No answer came. Quickly, Sherlock picked up John and ran up the stairs to his room. The door had been ripped of it's hinges, and thrown outside. Sherlock entered cautiously. Inside, both the Doctor and Clara were nowhere to be seen. But more worrying than that, each and every centimeter of the room had written on it, in blood:

**I DON'T BELIEVE IN YOU.**

**YOU DON'T EXIST.**

**SHERLOCK HOLMES IS DEAD.**

* * *

"Sher...lock..."

Sherlock didn't bother to turn around. This had been happening all night; John moaning Sherlock's name as he rolled over on the bed, sleeping. Sherlock had been stood at the window, his head in his hands as he gazed out. Thinking.

The police box was still sat at the end of the street, glowing dimly in the pitch black. _So they haven't left of their own accord. No, no, how could they have?_ The windows weren't open in his room when he arrived there, and even if they had been, nobody would have been able to move after jumping from that height. After examining the room, Sherlock had realized that the only thing the criminal had left was the blood...

Sherlock grinned as he remembered Mrs. Hudson's bewildered face as she entered the room. She had quickly shooed Sherlock out of the room and found another for him and John to sleep in for the night. She apologized that the room only had one bed.

Sherlock didn't mind. He couldn't sleep. There were too many questions flying around in his head, and more were unveiling themselves by the second. What did the writing mean? Who put it there? And who was the blood from? A horrific image dug itself into his head. The Doctor and Clara, lying dead somewhere, throats cut, completely dry of blood. The image became more and more detailed until Sherlock could bear it no longer. He stroke to John and, taking the nicotine patches John had hidden in his jacket pockets, slapped three onto his arm and flopped backwards onto the bed next to John, waiting for them to kick in.

"I thought you were giving those up, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed heavily as the impact of the patches hit him. He ignored John. "Sherlock!" John pulled Sherlock's arm to his chest and, before he could react, ripped the patches from his arm.

"Oww!" Sherlock turned to John and gave him a look that could kill. "Don't you _dare _do anything like that to me again!"

John quickly dropped Sherlock's arm, which was now a startling pink, and backed away quickly. "I-I...I just..." John stuttered before turning away from Sherlock, making it easier to talk to him confidently. "Sherlock, you promised me that you would try your hardest to quit-"

"I AM TRYING!" Sherlock rolled over and hid his face in his cushion, breathing heavily. John sighed.

"Sherlock, I'm doing this because I care about you." John rested his hand on Sherlock's back. Instantly he felt Sherlock's tense muscles relax, and his breathing steadied. Sherlock slowly turned over again. John sat up and rested himself against the bed head. They stayed that way for a while, John running his hand through Sherlock's thick hair as he closed his eyes for the first time that night, and eventually fell into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Sherlock awoke the next morning alone. He remembered last night with John, and...

And the blood.

"John?" Sherlock ran swiftly out of the bedroom. "John!"

"Sherlock, I'm in here."

Sherlock, relieved, walked into the kitchen where John was stood, with his back to the door. "I'm making breakfast, Sherlock. And even if you refuse to eat," John pointed the wooden spoon in his hand at Sherlock, "I will make sure that I force this down your throat."

"I'm really not hungry."

"Neither am I, to be honest," John said, thrusting a plate at Sherlock. "Mrs. Hudson told me what happened last night. So, our room's out of bounds for a while then?"

"Not quite," said Sherlock, sitting down at the table and staring ungratefully at the food on his plate. "I need to do some blood tests today. Hopefully that'll give us some clues as to where the Doctor and Clara are."

"That's weird, isn't it? No trace of anyone being in there, and yet the two of them must have been abducted, right?" John prodded the fried egg on his plate with his fork. "You know it's weird, I'm sure I was talking to the Doctor before I became unconscious." John grinned down at his plate. "God, I must have been seriously out of it."

Sherlock froze. He stared down at John's embarrassed face.

_"...until I met Sherlock Holmes, I never new what love really was." _

Sherlock suddenly became interested. What would happen if he played with the mouse for a while? The idea gave him a sudden kick of energy. He laughed inwardly. "Why? What did you say to him?" Sherlock fought the urge to giggle at John's even redder face. When no answer was given, he continued to push John. "Well, you've gone bright red. Again. It must be about me, so, what was it?"

John looked up at Sherlock's studying eyes, and instantly knew that he was taunting him. "I don't have time for this, Sherlock... wait." All the facts John had been missing hit him. And then he understood. "Sherlock. The Doctor went upstairs long before I fell. And Clara ran up before me. In fact, the only person there when I fell was _you. _Am I correct?" John looked at Sherlock and understanding passed between them. "Oh god..."

"John," Sherlock started as John quickly stood up and walked towards the door. "John!"

John stopped dead in his steps. "John, listen to me!" Sherlock continued. "Stop running away from me. It isn't going to make it any better." John slowly turned around, his head hung, not daring to look up at the tall man who had walked from his chair to stand right in front of him. "John, I..." Sherlock took a steady breath. "I know about your feelings for me. It's undeniable now. So you're going to have to confront your fears." Sherlock lifted John's hanging head in his hands and bent down to kiss John's hot forehead.

"No, let go..." John didn't struggle, but he was shaking violently. Sherlock slid his hands across John's back and pulled him in. John's head rested on Sherlock's chest, and Sherlock could feel him shaking even more than before. "Let go of me!"

"I know you might find it difficult, but it really doesn't need to be." Sherlock held him tighter. "I'm sorry if I was never understanding about this before. I'm sorry if I made you feel scared because I made jokes about it. But never again." Sherlock's hands felt their way back to John's burning cheeks, and he leaned down so he was face to face with John. "John, look at me. Please." John looked up, terrified, into Sherlock's blue eyes. Sherlock returned his gaze with a reassuring smile. "You can talk to me. I promise."


	5. I Love You

Authors note:

I hope you're enjoying this so far:D But for you followers, just one thing...

I have actually added to the last chapter. Each chapter will usually be split into two main parts, and I have now added the second part to that chapter. So if you only read up until the _"SHERLOCK HOLMES IS DEAD" _bit, you may need to just have a look at chapter four again to make sure you have actually read it allxD Sorry about this!

And thank you!:)

* * *

**5. I Love You.**

"Sherlock."

"Yes?"

The two of them were sitting on the sofa. Sherlock had flung his slim legs up across the back of the chair, and he let his head fall upside down over the side. John was not as relaxed as Sherlock. He was sat uptight, with his fists clenched at his sides and his head still hung, his hair hiding his face. Sherlock hated this. He wanted to see John, to know that he was okay. Slowly he raised his arm and brushed John's hair out of his face, and then took his chin and yanked it up. "That's better John. The more of your face I can see the better."

John pulled a face. "What, so you can analyse me again? That'll just make things worse."

"Things aren't bad now."

"W-what do you m-mean by that?" John stumbled over his words. He couldn't concentrate with Sherlock's long fingers digging into his face. "Oww, Sherlock, that hurts."

Sherlock's hand instantly retreated. "Sorry."

John glanced at Sherlock who was now looking embarrassed himself. He smiled. "Sherlock, don't take it to heart. You're pretty good at this actually."

"Good at what?"

"At talking to me. Can I ask you something?"

Sherlock kicked his legs back down to sit normally. "Go on."

John took a deep breath. "I've had to confess that I lo-" John stopped abruptly. Sherlock looked at him expectantly.

"That you love me."

John sighed. "Yes. Look the point is, you don't seem worried at all. A normal person would freak out, then throw me out of our home and never want to see me again. And yet here you are, sitting here like you couldn't care less. Why?"

"Firstly, you need to have more confidence. Anybody would be flattered that you have an interest in them. Anyone."

"Really?"

"Really. You could ask everybody in the world and not one person would turn you down." Sherlock smiled down at John and laughed silently to himself.

"Hmm..." John's gaze met with Sherlock's. "What about Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock gazed at John, not quite sure what to say. He hadn't really thought any of this through. Feelings were difficult to understand, his own especially. _Do I love John? Is that why he is the only person I can talk to? The only person I trust?_

John tuned his head away, smiling softly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't bother you with stupid questions." He attempted to stand up, but Sherlock grabbed his shirt and pulled him back onto the seat.

"Will you please stop doing that?"

"Doing what?"

Sherlock arose from his seat and took a step to the side, to stand directly in front of John. "Well, to start, I can't even count the amount of times you've said sorry to me in the past couple of days. You don't need to apologize for anything."

John starred up and the giant figure towering over him. "Sorr-" John stopped himself. "I-I... I mean..."

"And secondly." Sherlock leaned down to grab John's shoulders and push him down onto the other side of the sofa where Sherlock had been sitting, making him lie across it. He could see the terror on John's face, but continued anyway. He climbed onto the seat and knelt over John, one leg on each side of him, and smiled. "Will you please stop running away? You do it again and I'll..."

Sherlock's smile faded as he saw John's pupils dilate again. John realized and shut his eyes quickly, not daring to open them for fear of Sherlock's expression. John had learned that sometimes they were so effective it became scary. And he was scared. Until he felt Sherlock's lips on his.

It was incredible. Sherlock could not kiss, as he obviously had no experience at it whatsoever, but he tried all the same. John felt himself smile at that. _How cute._ Sherlock carefully lowered his body onto John's. Oh god, John thought. He could feel every detail of Sherlock's incredible body pressing down on him. He immediately panicked and tried to push Sherlock away. "Sherlock!"

"Shhh," Sherlock replied. He sat up and gazed cautiously at John."Did I hurt you?"

John sat up blushing. "No, it's fine. It felt sort of... nice."

"Oh." Sherlock couldn't help smile at that. "But?"

"But what?"

"What was I doing wrong?"

"Well for a start, you're not very good at it!" John laughed.

Sherlock turned away annoyed. "Let me try again..." He grabbed John's face in his hands and pressed his lips firmly against John's.

"Sherlock," John mumbled. "Stop."

Sherlock pulled away again, scowling. "What now?"

John looked down. "Why are you doing this? It's obvious you don't love me," he whispered. "I can't help how I feel. I already said that I'm sorry, so it's not fair that you're playing with me like this." He looked up at Sherlock, and his eyes started to tear up. Sherlock looked at him in disbelief. "I'm not running away anymore. I'm going to say it, Sherlock. I love you. I love you more than anything in the world. And I know that you don't feel the same way." John looked back down, empty and alone. "You always said that caring was a disadvantage. You were right. I'm sorry."

Sherlock violently pushed John back down onto the sofa and leaned down over him to press his lips against John's forehead. "I'm not playing with you," he whispered. "I care about you. More than you could ever know. More than even I can understand." He pulled himself back up and smiled at the disbelief on John's face.

"Sherlock, I..." A hint of amusement spread across John's face too. "You can't kiss, anyway." He slowly wrapped his hands around Sherlock's neck and pulled him in. "Let me help you with that."

Sherlock grinned, and again pressed his lips against John's. But this time John took control. He skillfully kissed Sherlock, and Sherlock tried to copy John's movements. Now and then he ran his tongue along Sherlock's bottom lip. Sherlock moaned quietly, making John laugh.

"John!" Sherlock sighed. "Am I doing something wrong again?"

"No." John smiled into Sherlock's blue eyes. "It's just...well..."

"What?"

"...you!" John laughed. "You are catching on quickly."

Sherlock leaned in again, but John pushed him away. "Sherlock, I thought you were going to do some blood tests."

Sherlock lowered himself onto John, and rested his head on John's chest. He could feel John's heartbeat and breathing quicken. "Can't it wait?"

"N-no!" John stiffened as he felt Sherlock's immaculate body on him again.

"Relax, John." Sherlock slid his arms up John's body. John froze. He closed his eyes and tried desperately to calm down. "John, are you even listening to me?"

"I... err..." Sherlock's hands had reached John's neck now. He knew that Sherlock was only toying with him, but he couldn't stop his breathing becoming quicker and quicker. "W-what?"

Sherlock sat up grinning. "Honestly, John!" He stood up. "You're right. Better go do those blood tests now."

John tried to protest, but Sherlock had already strode out of the room. "S-Sherlock! Wait!"


End file.
